


He’s a bit of a flirt, but I’ma give it a chance

by cellardoors_and_petrichor



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Airports, Airports are still the worst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff, Hamilton cackles, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Real Events, Laurens is very gay, M/M, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoors_and_petrichor/pseuds/cellardoors_and_petrichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“John, you’re the most polite asshole I know,” Hamilton grins as they head off in the direction of baggage. “Did you see that? She almost <i>whimpered</i>.”</p><p>or; the one where Hamilton and Laurens have to travel for a business trip</p>
            </blockquote>





	He’s a bit of a flirt, but I’ma give it a chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a true story of a real life thing that happened to me.

Hamilton’s composing an email on his phone when Laurens tugs on his sleeve to get his attention.

“-- _is broken, but we can make do without it. If you’ll just sit tight we should be wheels up soon,_ ” the co-pilot says over the intercom.

“What’s broken?” Hamilton says, concerned.

Laurens looks up from his newspaper. “Something about an air compressor maybe? I don’t know. I’m not an engineer.”

“That does not sound reassuring at all. I’m pretty sure all parts of a plane are necessary.” Hamilton checks his watch. “We’ll miss our connecting flight if we don’t take off soon.”

“Fuck LaGuardia. Why aren’t we flying out of JFK like everyone else?” Laurens near whines.

Hamilton shrugs and sets back into work. Thirty minutes later, John elbows him again.

“-- _plane is carrying too much weight so we have to return to the gate to unload some cargo. If you have a connecting flight, please deplane the aircraft and we’ll rebook you on a different flight_ ,” the co-pilot announces.

Laurens groans as he stands up. “See, I told you LaGuardia was the worst.” He hefts his laptop case higher up his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, quit whining,” Hamilton says, patting Laurens’ arm and letting it linger on the walk back up the jet bridge. He approaches the desk with the gate attendant. “Hi. We were supposed to be on the flight to Chicago and they told us to come see you.”

She gives a curt nod. “We’re putting you on the next direct flight out of Newark. 

“Out of Newark?” He replies, disbelievingly.

The gate attendant, Lisa, just nods her head again as she hands over the new boarding passes. Hamilton looks at the boarding time and nearly scoffs.

“This is boarding in an hour. Are you really naïve enough to think we can make it across town and into Jersey in time for this flight? When is the next flight out of LaGuardia?”

“Tomorrow at 7:30am,” Laurens says, looking at the flights on his iPhone.

Lisa hands over another piece of paper. “You’ll hand this over to the car service. Don’t forget to pick up your bags downstairs.”

John takes the slip from her. “Thank you ma’am,” John drawls slowly, a perfect mix of sarcasm and southern sensibilities. She blushes and sighs. Alex can relate.

“John, you’re the most polite asshole I know,” Hamilton grins as they head off in the direction of baggage. “Did you see that? She almost _whimpered_.”

Laurens blushes. “It’s not like I try! Women make no sense!”

Hamilton tilts his head with a softer smile. “It’s really not that hard, John.”

“Yes it is. Women scare me.”

When they make it down to baggage claim, their bags are nowhere in sight. Alex checks his watch again. They really don’t have time to wait for them. He turns to John. “How badly do you need your bag?”

John shrugs. “Not that bad. You got your meds?”

“Yeah. Let’s just head out.”

John slides into the car first. Hamilton starts laughing at a joke as he tries to tell it to John. “Do you know why all the trees in Pennsylvania lean east?”

Laurens looks wholly unamused. “Because New Jersey sucks?”

“Exactly!” he says strongly. “I swear to god, if Bruce Springsteen comes on the radio, I am getting out and walking to San Francisco.”

“Imagine how much more time you’ll have to spend in New Jersey that way.”

Alex points at him. “Point taken.”

He starts tapping on the car door. They only just make it past the Holland Tunnel, connecting lower Manhattan to Jersey City, before Hamilton feels a renewed wave of discontentment about New Jersey’s existence.

“Holy shit, why does New Jersey suck so much? All of these roads are under construction! Fuck Chris Christie.”

“No thanks,” Laurens says with a smirk.

“Fuck, marry, kill: James Madison, Lafayette, Thomas Jefferson.”

John makes a show of thinking about the question.

“Hmm. I’d fuck Thomas Jefferson. The hate sex would be superb. Marry Lafayette because he could provide for the life I’ve become accustomed to. And kill Madison before his immune system could kill me. Your turn. Lin-Manuel Miranda, Chris Evans, Robert Downey Jr.”

“No. Okay. Fuck Chris Evans because have you seen those arms? Marry Lin-Manuel Miranda because he would treat me right. And kill RDJ because I am adamantiumly Team Cap.”

“Did you just make a Captain America pun? We talked about puns, dude.” Laurens rolls his eyes.

Alexander just cackles. It’s another thirty tense minutes before they make it to Newark. The two men sprint to the security line, not so politely cutting everyone.

“Hide this in your hair, John,” Hamilton says quickly, handing John a four-ounce bottle of conditioner. Laurens shakes his head gently. God, his curls are absolutely stunning. 

“So vain, little lion,” he says fondly before tying the conditioner bottle into his hair.

“You love my good looks, John!” Hamilton laughs as he pulls off his shoes and jacket.

He swears he can hear Laurens mutter, “Probably a bit too much.”

That makes him pause. He’s known John for years. The idea that things between them may be a little less unrequited is quite frankly exciting. He’s pulled out of his head by the security officer at the front of the line.

“Sir, you cannot bring that drink through security,” the TSA badge says while pointing to the infographic about appropriate liquid sizes. 

Hamilton cradles the cup closer to his chest. Wasting coffee is sacrilege. He looks the officer straight in the eye as he pops off the top and downs 24 ounces of hot coffee. The officer trades out his look of boredom for slight concern. He clears his throat and gives him a nod.

Alexander’s putting all his things in a plastic bin when he glances to his friend. One line over, Hamilton sees John yell in the face of another TSA officer. “This is racist bullshit!” He’s pretty sure Washington might actually hand out repercussions if John gets arrested this time. He sees Laurens being manhandled into a chair to the side of the security checkpoint.

John’s probably already started drafting an article about ‘random security checkpoints’ in his mind. Alexander’s pretty sure he has a rough draft somewhere on his computer pertaining to the very subject.

“Step forward,” the TSA officer says with a hand motion. Alexander walks through the metal detector, setting it off in the process. He pulls out the handful of coins in his pocket and puts them to the side.

“One more time,” the officer says. The metal detector groans in protest again. He finds a beer bottle cap in his other pocket. He gives a sheepish and apologetic grin to the people behind him in line.

A few moments and four repetitions later, John growls in frustration, his fingers gripping the plastic seat. “Alexander, that is the sixth time you have walked through that metal detector. I will come pat you down myself. We don’t have time for this shit dude, our plane leaves in 10 minutes.”

“If you wanted to get to second base with me, all you had to do was ask,” Hamilton says with a wink. Laurens blushes. Huh, curious. The officer finishes patting down Hamilton and motions for him to sit next to Laurens. 

“I have no idea why I couldn’t make it through the metal detector without -- wait,” Hamilton lightly facepalms himself. “I just remembered that I have that metal pin in my leg.”

His friend turns to look at him with the most disbelieving expression. John says slowly, incredulously. “You what?”

Hamilton dismissively waves his hand. “Yeah, remember that one fight I got in with that bigot in Schenectady?”

John’s voice gets a little louder. “You said you were fine!”

Hamilton crosses his arms over his chest defensively. He doesn’t miss the way John’s eyes flit to his arms. “I was fine.”

“You have a metal pin in your leg!”

“Yeah, but it’s a small one.”

“It’s a small --” John abruptly cuts himself off. He shakes his head and flags down a TSA officer.

“Hey! Look, I’m John Laurens, the son of Henry Laurens. You know, the governor of South Carolina. If I can get him on the phone, will you please let us go?” he pleads with his cellphone clasped in both his hands. The man doesn’t need to know Henry’s unlikely to pick up his call.

He looks John up and down and then gives them an unimpressed look. “Your dad’s an asshole.”

Hamilton lets out a laugh. He’s not wrong.

“I’m well aware of that fact, man.” 

The TSA officer tilts his head as though weighing his options before he looks around and covertly lets the two of them go.

The two men sprint to their gate, which is the furthest one away because of course it is.

Hamilton has only one of his shoes on. He gazes longingly at the two coffee shops they pass. At the gate, the attendant is holding onto the door and they just barely make it onto the plane before they're shut.

He looks over and Alexander finds himself out of breath while Laurens isn’t even breaking a sweat. He really should start running again. Alex’s heart is still racing with adrenaline as he clicks his seatbelt.

“So how soon do they let us use the lavatory?” Alexander says moments later, tapping his fingers on the seat rest between himself and John.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Four hours into the flight, Alex lifts his head to make a comment about the e-mail Washington had sent them only to find John fast asleep, resting his head against Hamilton’s shoulder. Hamilton smiles softly and stows his phone. He puts Star Wars on his monitor and starts to card his fingers through John's hair.

He starts cackling when he finds the bottle of conditioner. John peeks one sleepy eye open, clearly grumpy and disgruntled. Alexander feels an overwhelming fondness wash over him as he rests their foreheads together. Without even thinking, he brings their lips together softly.

John makes a displeased noise. “Kisses later. Sleeping now.”

**Author's Note:**

> please please please comment. I wrote some of an epilogue, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading that! also, at least 30% of credit goes to [Rainah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah).


End file.
